Thank God It's Christmas!
by Triskell
Summary: CATS: A fairly plotless, fun piece for light reading, based on impressions from the Stuttgart CATS cast. Rated PG-13 for language and slashiness.


Author: Triskell  
Summary: fairly plotless, fun piece for light reading. Please take heed of the rating!   
Rating: PG-15 (slashy!)  
Disclaimer: The Jellicle Cats belong to TSE, ALW & RUG. The story is mine, no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: I know it's not Xmas yet, but the idea popped up and I couldn't resist. Title kindly provided by 'Queen' - if you haven't heard any of their music yet, get it now ;D. It's great! Looks and some interpretations taken from the Stuttgart production - the slash is all a product of my evil mind though.

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** Dedicated to She-Who-Refuses-To-Be-Named. You know why… winks**

  
This is a **SLASHY** fic. Don't like it, don't read.  
  
** Thank God It's Christmas! **  
© Triskell, August 27, 2002  


* * *

"Smile, Dem. It's Christmas!"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Love your fellow cats, hug the world…"  
  
"Munk."  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Shrugging, Munkustrap turned away, not without muttering "Someone wants Alonzo badly…" which earned him a hard slap to his backside. Laughing, he faced Demeter again, sticking out his tongue.  
  
"You're so immature, brother mine."  
  
The tall red queen winked as she entered, giving the grey tabby a quick hug before seating herself beside her sister.  
  
"Just happy, Bomb."  
  
"May we know the reason? You've been floating on cloud number nine for weeks now. It's exasperating - not to mention it's just so weird for you to grin all the time." Demeter nodded briskly in assent.  
  
"You'll know tonight - it's a surprise."  
  
Munkustrap beamed at his companions before slipping out the door. The queens looked at each other, shrugging. There were worse things than seeing their brother happy, though his constant cheerfulness wasn't exactly welcome when both of them were toying with near-depression.  
  
"You got the present?" Bombalurina sounded irritable.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Deuteronomy couldn't have come up with a more stupid idea. And I tell you he suggested certain pairings! The first paper I touched actually stung my paw! Misto definitely had something to do with this!"  
  
Demeter sighed in response. Picking out someone's name from a large top hat and then getting a present for that particular cat might be fun if you were a kitten, but to her it was quite the opposite. Not that it was any easier, having gotten Alonzo. She liked him. Maybe even a bit too much. Her liaison with Macavity hadn't been the best - he had failed to be there when one of his cronies had made unwelcome advances and almost gone a step too far.  
  
That was one thing she couldn't ever forgive him for - and the reason she had left him. No matter how often Bomb told her it wasn't the ginger tom's fault. She was frightened of toms now and it was all Macavity's fault. Even if Munkustrap called her 'kittenish' and 'close-minded' for it. She knew she was a little naïve at times, with a black-and-white view of the world that wasn't exactly realistic. But it was comfortable and safe and she liked it.  
  
"Dem! Dreaming again? I want to know what you got your tom."  
  
"Bomb!" Green eyes flashed in indignation.  
  
"Alright, never mind. Slip of my tongue. So what did you get for not-_your_-tom-Alonzo?"  
  
"I won't tell. It's…personal."  
  
Bombalurina laughed, "I imagine! Finally giving in and letting him have the snog he's been dreaming of since you two were kittens?"  
  
"BOMB!"  
  
This time the blush and outraged shriek were accompanied by a cushion to the red queen's head. Since retaliation didn't take long, the sisters were involved in a full-blown pillow fight in moments, which was broken off at the appearance of a pale, smiling face.  
  
"Mistoff!" Both cats were flushed, laughing and out of breath.  
  
"The very tom, aunties. Having fun I see… have you seen Dad?"  
  
"Your father, my dear _Misty_," Bombalurina laughed when the young tom turned his eyes heavenward, colouring slightly at the nickname, "has just gone off to Heaviside-knows-where, beaming like a mad-cat."  
  
"You don't happen to know why he's so…radiant of late?" Demeter chimed in - the young tom might have a clue after all.  
  
"Nope. But we'll find out soon enough. Guess it's some sort of surprise he's planning with Skimble. They're always stuck with each other, whispering and laughing. Not exactly dignified, if you ask me. Anyway, gotta go - need to find Dad - make sure the strings of lights are up correctly."  
  
"Of course, dear."  
  
"Run along, _Misty_, have fun." Bombalurina's voice just held that same sweet, mellow tone she had used when holding him tight and crooning; in his earliest kittenhood.  
  
"I hate you." Mistoffelees slunk out, the white tips of his ears glowing a bright red, while his aunts giggled in great amusement. Trying to best Munkustrap. It was cute, seeing him so serious, adamant to do his father proud and support him in his work. As Jenny had said: "If he weren't still a kit, he'd be obnoxious."  
  
"So Munk and Skimble are planning a surprise? What do you think it is Bomb?"  
  
"They'll declare their matehood to the tribe."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
Bombalurina laughed, her paw gently closing her sister's gaping jaw. "It's so obvious, really. Ever since Griddlebone left, Munk's friendship with Skimble has…ah…developed. They're so close now they're practically one and the same cat. And Skimble came out ages ago."  
  
"Only because he's gay doesn't mean Munk is too. They're just friends."  
  
"Yeah, sure. Dem. Open your eyes! And who says Munk's gay? He's bi, of course. Griddle wasn't a passing fancy and she definitely was one hell of a queen - the living proof of their passion just walked out of the door."  
  
"You're impossible."  
  
"Quite, Dem, quite…"  
  
"Only cause it's you. And I tell you - if anyone finds out, I'll…deny it all!" It sounded kittenish even to his own ears. The shame!  
  
"Sure, Mac, just give me those pearls already."  
  
The ginger tom grimaced, letting the thin necklace drop into his brother's outstretched paw. He hated being nice. It was so decidedly against his reputation. Especially since he'd managed to get in a good scare at the last ball. Lovely to see Demeter scream herself hoarse over his appearance. Good riddance, as far as he was concerned.  
  
"Thanks Mac, and Merry Christmas."  
  
Macavity screwed up his face, took a step back and hissed, "Plato, if you hug me, I swear I'll scratch your eyes out!"  
  
If someone saw him in his brother's arms he'd never hear the end of it. From Griddlebone especially - she would have a laughing fit. And she was enough of a tease already; just his luck to have fallen for her. At least she hadn't kept that impossible brat of hers when she moved in - far too much like his father to be considered sane. And magical too - a little show-off with a tendency to 'do good' - just made one's skin crawl.  
  
"Oh come on, Mac, it's Christmas!"  
  
Sighing, the ginger tom checked his surroundings, moving into Plato's open arms and slapping the other's back quickly before drawing back, quickly smothering the jovial grin that threatened to take possession of his face.  
  
"Now get lost you idiot."  
  
"Love ya too, Mac."  
  
Macavity growled, turning on his heel and storming off. He hated that brother of his. He really did. He couldn't understand what his mother had thought when she began sleeping with Gus. Such a sweet, lovable tom. He still thought it was temporary insanity after having lost her elder son's father in a battle against the Siamese.  
  
That she had stayed with the theatre cat till she passed away was just something he wasn't prepared to take into consideration. It would seem too much like she had loved him. And that was an emotion that was so very alien to him. Now he only had to pick up the pink boa he'd gotten his 'Griddly' for Christmas…  
  
"It's gonna be fun, fun, fun, fun…"  
  
"We get the picture, Tumble."  
  
Victoria looked ready to slap her tom-friend hard and with something heavy, just to stop his hopping, somersaulting and prancing. It was making her head spin. Rumpleteazer lay beside her, giggling madly, which didn't exactly lighten her mood.  
  
"I tell ya, Jer's goin' ta be so mad ta 'ave missed goin' ta the station with Skimble!"  
  
"Well, he forgot to get that present. Typical, I swear he has no brains in that big head of his."  
  
"Ey, 'e might be dumb an' all, but 'e's mine an' 'e doesna tumble about like yers does."  
  
"I'm no one's property!" an affronted young tom exclaimed, stopping his constant movements for a moment to glare at Rumpleteazer.  
  
"Oh Tumble!" was his partner's slightly tearful reply.  
  
"I'm sorry, Vicky."  
  
The white queen graciously extended her paw and got a tight hug and gentle kiss to her nose. For all that he protested, Tumblebrutus was hers - from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. Still, he needed reminding of that fact, for all that he wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
"Where's Silla by the way?" Victoria decided to let him off the hook for now.  
  
"Gone off with Pounce. They're having tea with Jenny." Of course the young tom would know where she was - never far from his brother's side. And he had a habit of keeping an eye on the younger tom.  
  
"Again?"  
  
"They'll be discussin' needlework, I warrant. Pounce's so keen on embroidery it's scary."  
  
"Poor Silla." Tumble was as little interested in sewing as the aforementioned queen. He could sympathise.  
  
"Her own fault - she should've set her priorities early in their relationship."  
  
"Vic, ya sound so much like Jelly, ya'll give me a 'eart attack one of these days."  
  
The white cat huffed, turning her attention from the calico beside her to her tom-friend, who stared at her with wide blue eyes. Worshipfully, as he was wont to do.  
  
"To the left! Heaviside, Tugger! I said to the left! Do I have to spell it out for you?"  
  
"You could come up and help me, ya know. Shouting from down there isn't gonna help."  
  
The tribe's heartthrob pouted prettily, hoping to produce the usual swooning. This trick didn't work on Mistoffelees though.  
  
"Tugger! You can't seriously expect me to get up there! I need an overview! How else are those strings of lights to end up in a symmetrical pattern? It's bad enough Dad just left his post here, I don't need your drama queen antics!"  
  
Huffing, Tugger turned his attention back to the job at hand. And he'd been so sure he'd finally got the message across to the younger tom. After all, lending him a paw so readily was a very kind and considerate thing to do. Quite different from his usual cool aloofness. Not that Misto had thanked him for his efforts. He slowly made another loop with the strings, in precisely the same size as the ones before.  
  
As he balanced precariously along the small paw holds in the junk piles around the great tire, his face suddenly lit up. Why hadn't he thought of it before? His friend was only unwilling to help him up here, because he had such a nice view of Tugger's backside from his position in the middle of the clearing! Smirking, he made sure his back was to Mistoffelees at all times now, ignoring the exasperated instructions that were barked up to him.  
  
Plato congratulated himself on a job well done. The necklace his brother had gotten - amidst much grumbling about his being unfortunate to be in any way related to a Jellicle - lay in the middle of Bombalurina's bed; in an attractive, red velvet wrapping, courtesy of Mungojerrie.  
  
It always paid to surprise the calico on one of his heists. Especially when Rumpleteazer was conspicuously absent and he was picking the lock of a jewellery box behind a couple of leave-less bushes.  
  
At least now Plato didn't have to wonder what the young queen would be wearing with her pearls from now on. The thin silver bracelet was of simple elegance, the rose on the clasp, made of gleaming red stones, however, looked a little tacky. Rumple would love it.  
  
Of course he wasn't going to split on Mungo - if the calico forgot he'd ever seen the string of pearls; Bombalurina wasn't to know who had gotten her present. Plato was quite prepared to let her tease him, being in love always came at a prize, especially if one's chosen was the red flirt. They'd been in a mutually pleasing relationship for almost half a year and still she'd never given him any indication she wanted exclusivity. And that's all he was really asking for.  
  
"Everything ready here?" The grey tabby was going over his to-do list one more time, though he made a point of lingering with his friend a little longer than strictly necessary.  
  
"Aye - don't ye think this is a bit much though?"  
  
"Not at all. It looks brilliant on you."  
  
"Ye think so?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
Skimble grinned, brushing his paw through his - now ocean blue - head-fur. If Munkustrap thought it was fine, who was he to argue? A change had been in order, especially since today had been his last time at the station. He had taken the kittens along so the memories wouldn't be too much to bear - with their constant chattering and incessant questions in his ears he hadn't been able to concentrate on his own feelings for the most part.  
  
"Skim - are you sure you don't want to take up with another human?"  
  
"Aye, Strap, that I am. He was special, taught me all I know. I canna go travelling alone. And no other human is as qualified. Sharing duties wi' him was a privilege. He's retired and that's it."  
  
"And teaching critters is a good alternative to railway adventures?"  
  
"Jenny offered and I guess it's not too bad for the time."  
  
"You could always help me out…"  
  
The orange tabby looked up, a brilliant smile lighting his cheerful face, "I'll be considering that, ye can count on that."  
  
It was a very bright night, with plenty of stars and no clouds. Thankfully that also meant that there was no snow to contend with, just the winter chills. And a little cold didn't seem such a bad thing, Old Deuteronomy mused - at least it would make sure that his tribe had to huddle together a bit to keep warm; which was precisely what he had hoped for, of course.  
  
He had been very observant in the past months and taken note of all relationships that had formed; especially those where a little help from an impartial bystander was needed to bring the cats together.  
  
Matchmaking had always been a secret passion of his, yet there had never been such a great many opportunities presenting themselves before. He was almost a little put out at Tantomile, Coricopat and Cassandra for having moved in together before he had been given the chance to meddle. The triple declaration of matehood had surprised a few of the tribe, though most had shrugged it off as one more mystical weirdness those three were prone to show.  
  
But what had really been a bit too much had been Bombalurina and Munkustrap - they had single-mindedly striven to make Demeter see reason and accept Alonzo, whose suit had been so timid one might have doubted his interest had he not been so persistent in his shy looks and touches.  
  
Still, Deuteronomy prided himself on his master plan - namely that he had finally found the perfect mates for Jennyanydots and Jellylorum. The latter choice had been particularly hard, since Gus had been so very concerned for his 'little one's' happiness. Deuteronomy smiled, rubbing his paws together. There definitely was a wonderful Christmas in store for the tribe.  
  
"Look, isn't that cool?"  
  
"Jenny said we'd have fireworks!"  
  
"Really? Will Misto do them?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
"There's Tugger!"  
  
"Rumple! You're standing on my tail! That _hurts_!"  
  
"Sorry Tumble, but it's 'im!"  
  
"Who? Mungo?"  
  
"No, silly, Tugger!"  
  
"Can't ya forget that tom for one night, Teaze. I'm 'ere too, ya know…"  
  
"I love ya, Jer, ya know that. But Tugger's so cool!"  
  
If not for the fact that the young queen had draped herself across his lap and was hugging him so tight about the neck that breathing was a little more difficult than it should have been, Mungojerrie might have seriously plotted the Tugger's death.  
  
As it was, he took advantage of the situation and wrapped his partner in his arms. That way he could be sure she wouldn't get away from him any time soon. She didn't seem to mind, purring into his chest fur while she ogled the lanky black tom whose golden mane shimmered in the lights from the strategically placed strings around the assembly area in front of the tire.  
  
But Tugger was oblivious to the stares he was receiving from just about every female. His fur had been groomed even better than usually and he had draped himself as sensuously as he was able on the oven near the tire - a good overview for him and the perfect place to be seen.  
  
The object of his interest was, however, deep in conversation with his father, pointing out all the wonderful things he had accomplished. Probably forgetting all about Tugger's generous help. Not that Munkustrap looked particularly pleased; his eyes were attentively fixed on his son, even though he seemed ready to fall asleep. And who could've blamed him? Still, there was one cat who'd have given just about anything to be the one Mistoffelees was so engrossed in.  
  
"My dears, so glad you all came along. Let's all take a seat and get comfortable, shall we?"  
  
Deuteronomy didn't need to raise his voice to be heard and, with Munkustrap's help, he had soon settled on the tire, surveying the tribe with a benevolent grin. When he had made eye contact with every single tom and queen, he chuckled and began his traditional Christmas speech - handed down from his great-grand-father to his grand-father to his father and, at last, to him.  
  
"My Jellicle friends. Christmas has come again and now is the time for us to open our hearts and minds and revel in the love and joy our loved ones close to us give us. Merry Christmas!"  
  
The clapping was loud and the whistles cheerful, as was usual after such a heartfelt speech. Even if it hadn't changed for a good century. After all, there's never the need to amend something that works.  
  
Munkustrap rose now, calling out, "The presents are all lying beneath the junk-man beside the old bedstead!"  
  
Murmurs were heard as everyone moved towards the impressive sculpture, a masterpiece by Plato and Coricopat. They had insisted that a tree was boring and a very human thing and that they would provide something original. Which they had.  
  
Though quite a lot of imagination was needed to see that they had actually created their monster in the likeness of Old Deuteronomy, in deference to the human custom of Santa Claus. A selected few knew of this, but they had not yet notified the rest of the tribe, since it would have been futile to explain to everyone just why this was art and not just another peculiar pile of junk.  
  
The first to approach the piled up presents was a sleek black shape with a mop of dark hair that was, for once, neatly brushed back. He picked up a small box, handing it to a blushing and giggling Jellylorum with an unsteady bow.  
  
"Oh Rumpus, you shouldn't have!" Moments later, he had been handed his own present, which turned out to be a comb and a huge tube of hair gel. He beamed at his date which only led her to dissolve into another giggling fit before she held out her paw and the two of them slunk off together.  
  
Deuteronomy was pleased, even more so when he heard Bustopher's grave, pompous voice, "I had no idea Jellylorum could be so kittenish. I declare she has quite surprised me!"  
  
"I perfectly agree with you. Her behaviour is quite shocking, is it not?"  
  
Pouncival had a hard time suppressing his laughter, Sillabub fairing no better. Jenny making proper speeches was extremely droll; or so they thought. Deuteronomy hushed them before taking it upon himself to make Gus comfortable - which meant enduring stories of the good old days that he had heard a thousand times already. At least he was comfortable in his knowledge that two of his matches were turning out just as he had expected. Not bad at all.  
  
Having settled on the tire, he nodded to the theatre cat, trailing his eyes across the remainder of the tribe. He overheard Bustopher's inviting Jenny to dine with him in proper fashion at a particularly good French restaurant, smiling into his beard when they trundled off.  
  
Tugger was miserable. Rumple had been gazing at him worshipfully for the better part of an hour before Mungo, sitting beside her with a look of disgust on his face, had decided he'd had enough; he'd practically dragged the calico queen off, swearing and mumbling he'd make sure that after this night she never as much as looked at any tom but him.  
  
Well, Tugger would have found that quite amusing, had it not been for the fact that he wanted to be adored by Mistoffelees, not Rumple. He didn't care for anyone else. Still, it had been a stab to his pride when Sillabub walked past him, snuggling into Pouncival's embrace. She hadn't even looked up at him!  
  
There was no need to count on Victoria of course - Tumble's present to her, a silk cushion, had been brought to her place a long while ago and neither of the kittens had come out of the den since. It wasn't that hard to conjecture what sort of Christmas surprise the white queen had in store for her tom-friend.  
  
So Tugger remained lounging on the oven, cold seeping through his fur; yet he refused to budge since he steadfastly believed Mistoffelees would show up. If only to remind his friend to go to bed. Or so he hoped.  
  
"Munku!"  
  
"Merry Christmas you two!"  
  
The tabby hugged each of his sisters, smiling at them, blatantly ignoring the burning questions evident in their eyes and body language. They wanted to know what surprise he had in store for them. Skimble was standing close by, his head fur almost black in the crisp evening, but for the slivers of moonlight that radiated off the blue, creating an eerie effect.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Munk."  
  
"Merry Christmas, brother dear."  
  
A short silence.  
  
"Oh come on, tell us already, will you; we've been patient enough with you!" The red queen wasn't known for her patience and now she was definitely put out.  
  
"Ah, do they pester ye again, yer two lassies?" The Scots-tom stepped forward to stand lightly beside his friend, grinning good-naturedly at the angry females.  
  
"As usual, Skim, no regard for their brother's feelings."  
  
"Munku!" Demeter was whining in perfect kitten fashion and Bombalurina's eyes were sparkling as she stood there, hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched up suggestively.  
  
"The long version or the short for ye, pretty lassies?"  
  
"Just spit it out already, either of you." The red queen despised being teased when she was this close to finding out her brother's secret. She had a right to know, after all.  
  
Munkustrap made a dramatic pause before announcing, with a huge grin, "Skim and I are going on a train trip through Great Britain come spring!"  
  
"Train?"  
  
"Britain?"  
  
The toms laughed delightedly as Skimble draped an arm around the grey tabby's hips. "That and we're an item, but ye knew that already, right?"  
  
Demeter gulped, casting a glance at her sister who smirked and mouthed 'Told you so.' Then she smiled at her brother and his mate, taking a step forward to hug them both tightly.  
  
"We'll miss you two - but I promise we'll keep Misto out of trouble."  
  
"Oh, you needn't worry about him."  
  
"We'll set Tugger on him; the lad'll have no time at all for mischief."  
  
The queens glanced at each other and decided they didn't want to know just then. But Munkustrap obviously hadn't finished, "But what I would ask you to do, Bomb, is to take over my duties while we're gone. I talked to Deuteronomy and he was ecstatic."  
  
"I thought Plato is second-in-command."  
  
"He's a fighter, not a leader. You think, he acts, how's that sound?"  
  
The red queen grinned, "Brilliant."  
  
Mistoffelees saw the black shadow lying on the oven; very obviously stretching himself in the moonlight, which pleasantly highlighted his toned body. Very pleasantly in fact. Not that he would admit that.  
  
At least not to Tugger's face. After all - if that tom expected him to come crawling, then it was definitely not an option. _You'll have to fight for me first._  
  
Leaning against a junk pile in full view of the oven, he yawned exaggeratedly; then he turned around and left, though not before he had bent slowly downward to pick up a bit of ribbon. When he left the clearing, he saw the other tom jumping off the oven, careful to not seem to be following him.  
  
Mistoffelees smiled: Tugger's game, but _his_ rules.  
  
"I insist. He's not moved one paw since he came here. And he's been mooning over you for far too long. If you don't go over and at least talk to him, I'll drag you there. And then I'll take that pretty silk scarf you got for Christmas and tie your paws together."  
  
Demeter took a step backwards, evading her sister; she didn't have a choice of course. Her only problem was she didn't know how to start a conversation. But Bombalurina was nudging her in the back and she couldn't get away.  
  
Sighing quietly, she moved towards Alonzo, whose dark eyes widened even more as she approached. He stayed right where he was, still, only his whiskers twitching lightly. Bombalurina was just about to try and initiate some sort of exchange, when she caught sight of a shadow right above Alonzo. Recognising him, she cocked her head, then smiled slyly as she slunk between the junk piles; there she waited with bated breath to see what her old friend was up to.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
Heaviside, he'd come just in time. Good thing Griddly had insisted on cream for dessert. Not that he had meant to come to the junkyard to check on his brother. Oh no, it had just so happened that he had passed by. There he was now - and he had never seen a more stunning display of imbecility in his life.  
  
He wouldn't blame the tom alone, of course. Chronic shyness was no crime; even if it was exasperating to the nines. It took someone like that kitten to totally confuse his mind. But there was one thing each suitor could count on - and that was heroism. Always a winner. Smiling against the wind that had masked his scent so well, he moved a little.  
  
Demeter was looking at Alonzo, when a swish of red above him suddenly caught her attention. Just before the ginger tom landed in front of her, she had begun to scream, "MACAVITYYYYYY!" The shriek hurt his ears. Another reason why he was happy to be rid of her.  
  
"Demeter!" Found his voice, had he? How charming! Claws tore into his back and he hissed, throwing the younger tom off with ease. Strong and foolishly brave, but no match for him. Glaring at the queen and her protector - crouched in front of her, claws extended and fur on end - he decided he'd helped enough already; getting into a fight was no longer necessary.  
  
After all, Demeter looked less frightened now, and her eyes kept straying to Alonzo's backside. Which was probably something he need not have seen. One more hiss for good measure and he jumped up onto the junk piles lightly, disappearing like a spectre.  
  
The brown and white tom turned around slowly, checking the quiet assembly area for signs of further danger, finally turning his attention fully on a pretty, blushing queen.  
  
"Are you alrig…" he wasn't even able to finish his sentence, Demeter had already wrapped her arms around his neck and was kissing him. He had no option, of course. A hero must accept his due. So he kissed her back.  
  
Bombalurina leaned against a wooden plank, holding her sides as she shook with silent laughter. If ever she decided to write bad romance novels, she would use this embarrassing display as a model…  
  
Ticking off the names of each individual cat in the tribe on a list, Coricopat paced his dwelling. He felt it was his duty to make sure everyone was safe and sound before he went to bed. He might not be able to do much, but he could feel distress and ensuring there was none was a fairly easy thing to do.  
  
"Has everyone been accounted for?" he finally asked, briskly.  
  
"Cori, ease up. We're not at war."  
  
"There's no potential danger out there, dear. It's Christmas. Listen to your sister."  
  
"I hate it when you do that."  
  
"Do what?" two queens spoke as one, smirking.  
  
Coricopat groaned. His life was hell. And he enjoyed it. He had to be a masochist. A sleek brown shape cuddled against his right, his twin rubbed against his head from the left. Sandwiched between his lovers, he sighed. Life was hard. Very hard.  
  
"May I come in?"  
  
"Bomba, sure, of course, I mean…" Plato decided to shut up. He hadn't been gifted with eloquence, he was more the hands-on type.  
  
"I was hoping you'd help me."  
  
"Ah, sure, yes…" Perhaps he should have simply nodded. They usually didn't talk much. And if they did, the red queen never looked at him with such a sweet and strangely innocent smile. He could deal with sensuality, seduction, flirting or passion, not with real emotion.  
  
"Can you clasp this for me?"  
  
This time he did the right thing. A curt nod, perfectly timed. He had known he was capable of pretending that he was not nervous as he reached for the two ends of the necklace and carefully put it around Bombalurina's neck, brushing her shoulders as he fastened the clasp.  
  
The small pearls were delicate against her red fur, shining and beautiful. He had known his brother would find just the right sort. Macavity had taste.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"You didn't get your present, Plato." Bombalurina handed him a small parcel, wrapped in some newspaper or other. He grinned, a little embarrassed. He knew it was from her. After all, Deuteronomy had lost no time telling him the red queen had picked him.  
  
While he slowly unwrapped his present, his visitor leant against his side, her fur tickling him as she wiggled a little to get comfortable.  
  
"Munk is going on a train trip with Skimble this spring."  
  
"I heard. You're taking Munk's place?"  
  
"Yes. Though I was hoping you'd help me out."  
  
"Of course!" As if she had to ask. Or maybe she did. He probably should try to talk to her more. Not that he would have known where to start. The newspaper wrapping was on the floor and he held a little book in his paws. Carefully cut sheets, delicately curved paw-writing. It was entitled: 'To Do List'  
  
Being naturally curious, he turned to the first page. "Kiss Bomba." He looked up at a smirking queen.  
  
"You're not nearly as forceful as I would like. This should give you an idea of how to…take me."  
  
Plato eyes widened as his grin spread across his whole face. Moments later he found himself on his back, Bombalurina straddling him. Perhaps, he mused, talking was not that high on her priority list after all.  
  
Deuteronomy stood at the living room window and looked out at the vicarage gardens. The stars were still bright in the night sky and the world was still - apart from the sounds of the theatre cat snoring beside him - and peaceful.  
  
Grinning, he touched the portrait of his last wife, Grizabella. Now that she had passed to the Heaviside Layer, he was sure there was one star more in the heavens. And none brighter than hers. And it was twinkling at him right now, as if she were laughing at him, with him and about him.  
  
"Merry Christmas, my dear."  
  
The End.  



End file.
